Communication
by ficdirectory
Summary: Post-ep with spoilers for 1x12 "The Tempest."  Written for chelseafrew's Alphabet Fic request C is for Communication, featuring Emmett.  My first fic in the Switched at Birth fandom!


After the night he had, Emmett needed to blow off steam. Seriously. He had thought giving Bay an opportunity to get to know his mom might change her mind, but things had gone so wrong. Regina saw it. He saw it. Bay definitely saw it. But his mom thought it was all a big joke to laugh at Bay. He hadn't wanted to see her when she came into his room that night to try to talk to him about what happened. He thought she was being over-dramatic and weird when she told him about her own experiences learning to speak.

But then it's hours later, and he's working on his motorcycle to help deal with all this stress, and there's a light in his face. There's someone talking to him, but it's dark, and there's no way - between the darkness of the night around him and the intensity of the light shining on him - that he can read the guy's lips. He stands up to get a better view, pointing to his ear and shaking his head slightly to try to get across that he can't hear them.

Before he knows it, he is forced to the ground. His hands are cuffed behind his back. Suddenly, what his mom said has a lot more impact. Forcibly taking away someone's only means of communication isn't something that's limited to thirty years ago. Things, as it turns out, aren't so different now. It's embarrassing and scary to not have a clue about what's happening and to not be able to ask what the hell is going on.

They walk him to a squad car, probably talking to him, but Emmett has no way of knowing. Fear rushes through him, and he tries to think of a way to get someone's attention, but everything he can think of involves the use of his hands.

After a few minutes, he's at the police station. The cop roughly takes him by the arm and pushes him inside. Into a little room. He sits, trying somehow, to show using only the expressions on his face, that he is not getting any of this.

But Emmett is sure that all the cops can see is a belligerent kid who did something to piss them off or threaten them, or who looks like someone who pissed them off or threatened them. That had to be it. They picked up the wrong guy. But how was he going to put that across when they were refusing to take the cuffs off?

One cop brings his hand forcefully down on the metal table. Emmett glances up. He takes a breath, but he can't make himself do it. If he speaks and it doesn't do anything, then what? He'll only have succeeded in pissing them off even more. Tears come to his eyes and he blinks them back. He can deal with this. He just has to figure out what to do.

He should text his mom, except he can't get to his phone. And all she needs right now is to find out he's been arrested for something and Emmett doesn't even know what it is. If he had his phone, he could text Bay, but his mom succeeded in totally insulting her, so she probably doesn't want to talk to him at all anyway, much less come down and try to help. The best choice he can come up with is Regina, who is hearing, and fluent in ASL. But his hands are tied, literally.

Nothing is changing. The room is really cold, and these guys are really mad. He could try speaking again, but fear keeps him silent. If they mistake his unclear speech for disrespect, this situation will go from bad to worse. If he could relax, they might take the cuffs off, but he can't relax. It's crazy in here and he's so confused.

Unconsciously, he starts trying to sign - his hands still behind his back - hoping one of them will notice. He tries nodding over my shoulder, but they don't look at him. They walk out of the room and slam the door.

He lays his head down on the table. He remembers his mom's words from earlier tonight. She had to sit on her hands, and was hit if she signed. As scary as it is for cops to be doing this to him right now, it must have been even worse for his mom as a kid. These cops, at least, are doing what cops do. Teachers aren't supposed to smack kids around.

So, when they come back in, Emmett takes a deep breath. He holds his head up and looks them in the eye. "I'm deaf," he says, hoping that they understand.

* * *

><p>In minutes, his hands are free. His wrists are sore from the metal digging into his wrists and he's bruised from the takedown in his driveway. He texts home and soon his mom and Regina are here.<p>

"It's a misunderstanding," Regina says. "They were looking for another boy who matched your description. He broke into a hardware store and stole a bunch of tools. You had the wrench in your hand when they arrested you," she clarified, her hands flying. "They misinterpreted it as a threat when you stood up with it, and they brought you in for questioning."

Emmett nods, embarrassed. He'd forgotten all about the wrench. He'd just been working on his motorcycle. Not thinking about what was in his hands when the light blinded him and he stood up.

"Don't tell Bay. Or Daphne, okay? Please?" he asks, hoping Regina will keep this between them. The last thing he needs is for either one of them to find out about this when Emmett just wants to forget all about it.

"I promise," Regina nods seriously.

Later that night, Emmett finds his mom at the table, a cup in her hands.

"Coffee? Now?" he asks, hoping she doesn't take this as an opportunity for another lecture. He's not in the mood. But instead, she just smiles and pats the chair beside her.

He sits, sighing a little, and raises his eyebrows at her cup. She slides it across the table to him, wincing at his raw wrists as he sips the lukewarm coffee.

He sets the cup down. "It's nothing," he reassures her, even though they hurt like hell. "Look…I'm sorry for not listening to you earlier about speech therapy. I don't have to go if it makes you uncomfortable. If it makes you…" Emmett trails off, momentarily at a loss, "remember…"

"I think," his mom says, her hands moving deliberately. "It would be a good idea. I don't want you in a situation where you can't communicate."

"I'm sorry. About how you were treated." Emmett ducks his head. It sucks thinking about his mom going through all that when she was younger than he is now. After tonight, he is ready to apologize for everything.

"I'm sorry, too. This? You don't deserve this…" his mom, says her face a mix of sadness, anger and disappointment.

"I'm going to bed," Emmett says, standing. It's always weird when his mom starts talking about emotional stuff. Easier to clear out before it got too weird. But he paused halfway out of the kitchen, turning. He walked back in and touched his mom's arm to get her attention.

"I'm going to do better. I promise," Emmett nodded, serious.

"Yes," his mom smiled. "You are."

She wrapped her arms around him and he let her. He knew he was not off the hook about his schoolwork, but that was okay.

Emmett could deal with that.


End file.
